


Consolation Prize

by middendorffi



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood Kink, Body Horror, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:04:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8466391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middendorffi/pseuds/middendorffi
Summary: I hesitate and Strade licks his lips “Want me to do it for ya, buddy?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think I made it gender neutral? I tried, lemme know if I hecked up~

“You want me to what?”

 

“Lick it. Lick the knife.”

 

I narrow my eyes at Strade.  _ Is this a trick? _ Licking a knife is nothing. Sure, it will probably taste like my own dried blood, but I can deal with that.

 

I glance down at the hunting knife in my hand and glance back up at Strade’s smiling face. I keep his gaze as I slide my tongue up the length of the knife.  _ He’ll like that, right? It’ll go faster if he likes it _ . The corner of his mouth twitches and he lets out a giggle. I frown, uncertainly and fear floods back into my system. It feels like home.

 

“Boy, you really are stupid, aren’t ya~!” he says. It doesn’t matter that I’m the one that’s armed. I feel weak. I feel like he’s right. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?  I bite my lip. “The side I use to cut you, lick  _ that _ .”

 

Oh.

 

Turning the knife, I hold it up to my mouth, my hand shaking slightly.  _ It’s really not that bad, _ I tell myself, and it’s true, isn’t it?  He’s made me cut myself open for him before. I’ve been through worse. I wasn’t being stabbed, or beaten, or pissed on. I stick my tongue out, and lay the sharp blade on it. I look to Strade’s eyes, and his small nod gives me enough courage to follow through. I flick my tongue upwards, slowly, feeling the knife cut shallowly through the wiggly muscle like butter. “ _ Ah _ .” I moan, burning pain blossoms from the mild injury, almost like a bad paper cut.

 

I leave my tongue out, feeling drool mixed with fresh blood slowly dribbling down my chin. I look at Strade expectantly. One of two things will happen. Either we’ll be done with this, and he’ll torture me another way, or…

 

“Again.” He says excitedly. I pull my tongue back into my mouth and suck it, trying the make the surface less slick. I line up knife again, still keeping eye contact. I lick with more force this time, gasping at the pain and holding hard to the knife with trembling hands. I don’t try to hide my pain, letting it fill my eyes and signalling it clearly with my whimpers. Strade’s jaw is slack, gazing at me like I’m masturbating in front of him. Blood overwhelms my taste buds with the familiar metallic taste and  _ it just keeps coming _ .. I look down to see a steady stream of blood falling onto the cement below me. I start to tremble.

 

“Again.” Strade says, stepping closer to get a better look. I hesitate and Strade licks his lips “Want me to do it for ya, buddy?” He asks.  _ He’ll just cut it out completely _ , the thought comes out of fear but it rings true.

 

I lick the blade again. Harder.

 

The knife clatters to the floor and I scream, hands flying to my mouth. The blood is actually spurting out of my mouth, free-flowing like river rapids. I can’t possibly swallow it, so it just soaks the front of my t shirt. My hands come away from my mouth a nearly opaque red. I’m wailing uncontrollably. The pain is so intense that I don’t even notice Strade until he pries my hands from my mouth and… kisses me.

 

It’s not a normal kiss. Not a human one. This… this feels like cannibalism. Strade’s tongue tastes my self-inflicted wound, thrusting and poking at raw nerve endings. I cry into his mouth, and he eats that up, too. He groans and pulls at me, clawing bare skin with no real purpose. His moans are always shameless but he seems to be enjoying himself this time in particular. The sound causes an unexpected ache between my legs. My tongue pulses with pain and a growing nausea fills my stomach. Eventually my body can’t take it anymore.

 

I gag several times before I vomit, spewing bile and blood with an audible splatter on the ground. I only just barely managed to push Strade away to avoid puking directly into his mouth. I can’t stop shaking, my legs give out and I hold myself up with trembling arms. I continue vomiting until it’s just the blood from my tongue streaming from out of my mouth again.

 

“All done?” Strade asks next to me. “Y-yeah… yeah, I think so.” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, merely moving blood and sick around with more of the same. “Good. That’s real good~ Tell you what, if you can do one little favor, I’ll fix you right up. Good as new.” He says, stepping towards me with a predatory look in his eye. I know what’s going to happen before he even puts a hand to his belt. I try to scramble away, crab walking backwards through smears of my own blood. I don’t get far.

 

Strade grabs me by the hair and shoves his thick cock into my blood-filled mouth. I open my mouth as wide as I can frantically. The last time I used too much teeth he hit me so hard I couldn’t see out of my right eye for a few days. His thrusts are shallow, hitting the split of my tongue repeatedly, instead of the back of my throat. That should make it easier, but it doesn’t. The pain is unbearable, and I can’t help but wail around him, which he seems to like, hands twitching in my hair. Blood seeps out of my mouth at the corners, but it’s not nearly enough. It flows down my throat. It gets harder and harder to breathe. Liquid enters my lungs and I try to cough without moving, without disturbing him.

 

I can’t get enough oxygen. The pressure behind my eyes tell me that this is an emergency. I try to tap at his thighs to let him know. As if this is some face fucking porno and not… this.  _ Surely he cares, right? Why would he bother keeping me just to let me die? _

 

It doesn’t work.

 

I try something else. I lick the head of his cock desperately. I can feel his thrusts slow, and then stop completely. His grip shifts to the back of my ears, blunt nails digging into the skin and cartilage painfully. “ _ OH~! _ Buu-ddy. Ohhh,  _ haha _ that’s nice.” I re-double my efforts. If I can get him to finish before I pass out, I’ll live. Consolation prize. Without him moving--except for the occasional twitches--I can feel more distinctly just how fucked my tongue is. Licking is no longer directional, the sides seem to flop separately from each other, sliding around the bulbous head of Strade’s cock like tiny tentacles. Hearing his moans, I can almost understand how  _ good _ that would feel. I gurgle out a whimper, the direction of my thoughts brings heat between my thighs. He comes faster than I expected him to. There’s too much blood in my mouth to taste him, but I see an undeniable streak of white cum briefly in the spatter of blood that comes out of my mouth. I didn’t manage to avoid hitting strade’s shoes, but he can’t really blame me for that, can he?

 

I’m lying on my knees between his feet, taking in shaky breaths. He presses his hand into my hair, massaging my scalp gently in that too-kind way of his. I look up at him, and  _ gods _ he’s a mess. His limp cock hangs in my face, coated in blood. I try to ignore it. I look to his face, serene and blank. “Did I do good?” I rasp. He smiles and chuckles. “Yeah, kid, you did good.”

 

_ I did good… _

 

The next thing I remember is waking up slowly, bright lights. Tiles. A bathroom. Bathtub? I’m sitting in a bathtub. The door opens and Strade strolls in. I can’t open my mouth.  _ Why can’t I open my mouth? _ “Good! You’re up!” I blink at him dumbly. “Don’t worry if you can’t move much, that’s just the anesthetic, something or other~” Anesthetic? For surgery? Why would he do that? Strade turns on the water, it pools around my feet. I can feel that it’s cold, but it’s not uncomfortable. It doesn’t take long for the water to steam. Strade sets up several items by the side of the bathtub. They look nice, colorful...  _ Am I really alright? _

 

He talks as the bathtub fills. “I called in a guy.” He says conspiratorially. “He helped me with it. Your injury…” He’s quiet for a moment, runs a hand through his hair. “That’s the longest I’ve gone without hearing your voice since we met, you know. Heh. I didn’t like it. You know what I mean, right buddy?”  _ He missed me? How long was-- _

 

“Say something.” Strade says suddenly. “You can hear me, right? Say something.” I try, I really do, but the most I can manage is to open my mouth slightly. Strade is looking light he might hurt me if I do nothing. I try again. “...Thhhank you.” He laughs. “ _ Nett _ ~” He says, absolutely beaming.

  
I wish I could smile back.

**Author's Note:**

> nett = cute ;; a quick lil thing bc inspiration


End file.
